


Changing of the Guard

by GohanRoxas



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Original Character(s), Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GohanRoxas/pseuds/GohanRoxas
Summary: From a respected soldier to a demeaned bodyguard, then to a crew member of the first human Spectre. Damian Proctor's career in the Alliance military has had more ups and downs than a mountain range back home. Now he was fighting a war with an invisible, ancient enemy. Maybe he wasn't ready for this...





	Changing of the Guard

**Author's Note:**

> ...this is the third time I've written this idea...but I'm committed to making this work this time...hopefully.

It felt strange to have aliens like him more than his own race. Even if most of the aliens around called him “Earther” for some reason. Save for people like the hanar and elcor, who didn’t believe in any kind of colloquialisms.

Chellick didn’t use that name, though. He used his actual name, a nice change of pace. Not even his fellow Alliance members did that.

Why Chellick insisted on drinking at Chora’s Den eluded him. The place was run by a black market information broker, for God’s sake, and yet it was the watering hole of choice for a C-Sec officer?

“I’m pretty sure I say this every damn time,” he muttered, looking at what he thought was supposed to be an attempt at old Earth whiskey, “but why in all the hells do you come here to drink?”

“And I’m pretty sure I tell you this every time, Proctor, but I have my reasons.” Chellick’s voice was the usual, rumbling, almost dual-tonal voice of a turian, and it had taken him a little while to adjust to it initially.

“And let me guess, those reasons have something to do with that redhead behind the bar?” Proctor drawled, pointing across the way at the human girl who looked way too innocent to be working at a place like this.

Chellick was unflappable, and yet he seemed to flinch just a little bit at the probing answer. Only people who knew him well would even notice it, though.

The human grinned. “I knew it.”

His turian friend coughed. “Let’s just have our drinks and go, okay?”

Even as they clicked their glasses together and emptied them, he spotted an unwelcome, familiar sight out of the corner of his eye. A motley crew if ever there was one. A group of three batarians, a drell and two humans, all dressed uniformly in red shirts. They clearly weren’t fans of the classics. “Hey! Stock!” one of the humans called.

Proctor rolled his eyes at the nickname. Yet another thing he hated about working at the human embassy. Slowly and deliberately, he rose to his feet, hand on the table. “What is it, Baxter?”

“Hanging out with C-Sec? Bet that’s rich for you.” He smirked, the gaggle of people around him chuckling their support.

He sighed, running a hand through his short dark hair before squaring up to Baxter, enough to make him and his sycophants flinch slightly. “Listen, Bax. Can I call you Bax? Bax...literally everything you say I’ve heard a hundred times already, and you and your little buddies are about as threatening as the guys who pulled on pigtails in high school. I dealt with worse shit than you in basic. So how about you stop wasting everyone’s time and get the hell outta my face?”

Baxter’s face turned red and he pushed himself back, reaching for his sidearm…

“Ah-ah…” Proctor’s face broke out in a cheeky grin. “As you say, I’m ‘hanging out with C-Sec’, so if you even think about drawing your weapons in here, he can drag you upstairs in a heartbeat. And besides…” He nodded his head to behind the bullies...where a pair of grumpy looking krogan stood, shotguns in their hands. “I’m pretty sure the owners of Chora’s Den don’t take lightly to anyone but them using weapons.”

The man snarled and he took his hand away, glaring at his foe. “Don’t think this is over.”

“Oh, I don’t  _ think _ it’s over. I  _ know _ it is.”

The tiny gang walked out, the krogan guards escorting them to the door. And, of course, at that exact same moment, Proctor’s omni-tool began to ring. A message. Udina. “Son of a bitch. Could this get any worse?”

He could hear Chellick laugh softly behind him as he answered the call. “Ambassador Udina. What do you need?”

“ _ Where the hell are you, Proctor? _ ” Udina’s voice was its usual self: annoying and self-important.

“I’m...headed back to the embassy now.”

He heard the ambassador sigh heavily. “ _ To be honest, I don’t give a damn where you are, aside from it not being here. You need to get here, now. _ ”

“Sir?”

“ _ There’s an...issue that needs our attention. _ ”

“Ours, Ambassador?”

“ _ Yes, ours. Now shut the hell up and get back here. _ ”

“Yes, sir.”

“ _ Hmmm. _ ” Udina was always the one to hang up. He had to have the last word, after all.

Proctor put his arm down and looked at his friend. “Really despise that guy.”

Chellick laughed. “Who doesn’t hate their boss?”

“An idiot. Still, at least your boss isn’t representing your entire race to the galaxy.”

“That’s...fair.”

He groaned. “Well, I better head up. See you soon?”

“As long as that’s not your call for a court marshal and/or execution.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

* * *

When he arrived there, it looked like he’d made it at the very end of an important meeting, with yet another motley crew of individuals, but a more benevolent one than his encounter at Chora’s Den. Udina was there, obviously, but the people around him were somewhat surprising.

The first person he saw, because he was so out of place, was the krogan. Built just like every other krogan he’d met - like a brick shit-house - he had a trio of long scars down the side of his face and a red-tinted head-plate, a shade that matched his bulky armour.

Standing next to him was a turian C-Sec officer, one he knew of, but not actually. He’d heard from Chellick how one guy specifically was deep into a case regarding the Spectre Saren and accusations of treason. The name was...Vakarian?

Standing a distance behind those intimidating figures was, of all things, a quarian girl. The suit that kept them alive made it impossible to judge her age, but her posture certainly suggested that she was young and inexperienced in the world. Still, the shotgun on her back was evidence enough she was willing to defend herself if need be.

Everyone else stuck out a little less like a sore thumb, clearly being Alliance. Captain David Anderson was someone he recognised immediately. The man was a legend, almost becoming the first human Spectre years ago, before the mission went awry.

The rest were obviously military - like the armour and array of weapons didn’t give that away. One was a plain-looking man with black hair, the other a tan woman with a similarly-hued ponytail.

The third was a tad pale, with dark red hair and a few freckles on her face. He recognised her now. Lieutenant-Commander Jane Shepard. The current candidate for the first human Spectre.

Udina seemed to notice him - he could tell, his face crinkled even more than usual - and he cleared his throat. “Shepard, Anderson, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Damian Proctor, part of my security detail.”

Damian saluted accordingly, choosing deliberately to ignore Udina and instead salute Anderson and Shepard. “Sir. Ma’am.”

Both of them gave him curt salutes, though he could have sworn he saw a wry smile on Shepard’s face.

“Anderson, you’re already aware that I’ve requested the  _ Normandy _ be assigned to Shepard, and that you be reassigned here?”

The captain’s voice clearly showed his distaste for Udina’s decision. “Yes, Ambassador.”

“Well, that means that there’s an open spot for an Alliance officer on the ship, what with Shepard effectively becoming the captain. That’s why I’ve already put in motion the Lieutenant’s reassignment to the  _ Normandy _ , effective immediately.”

Damian blinked, falling out of attention quickly. “Ambassador?”

“Shut up, Proctor, let me talk.” How was it possible that the man was basically giving him a promotion and yet was still insulting and offending him at every turn? “I’ve been told that Proctor is actually a top graduate from basic training, and a skilled biotic in his own right. It’s my belief that...he’d be much more useful to the Alliance out in the field than here on the Citadel.”

That smile that Damian was sure he’d seen on Shepard before? It was out in full-force now. “Well, the more the merrier, I say. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.”

“Aboard what?” he had to ask.

“The ship of the first human Spectre.”

He paused, completely in shock at what he was hearing. What the fuck had he missed?


End file.
